


Keep Your Charm Where I Can't See It (And Your Hands Where I Can)

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Closeted Character, Except they're not, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, gay characters also pretending to be gay, no really a completely out gay boy band, straight characters pretending to be gay, they're a gay boy band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All four members of the world’s first gay boy band are straight.</p><p>Except.</p><p>Well.</p><p>Not all four of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Your Charm Where I Can't See It (And Your Hands Where I Can)

“How about a kiss for the camera? The fans will love it.”

“Sure,” James replies, ignoring how invasive and creepy he finds the lens in his face. “But who do you want me to kiss?”

Scanning the swarm, James is deliberate. He’s searching for a victim, painting a bulls-eye on everyone’s forehead. But he’s already got his prey picked out. Deliberately, he puckers his lips at the camera man who asked.

“How about you, big boy?”

Kendall snorts softly beside him.

The paparazzo stumbles back several steps, shaking his head. “Flattered, James, but I don’t swing that way.”

“Shame,” James replies, winking. “I’d take you for a ride.”

It’s easy to spin out the words, to let himself believe them. In this moment, he’s James Diamond, megastar, utterly invincible. A few of the reporters titter and laugh, but they’re already back to serious business, hounding Carlos and Logan until, adorably, they smush their mouths together.

It’s like watching puppies bump noses; the horde of paps eat that shit up. They flock in close with their shutter-clicks and their wolf whistles, smothering the guys with their insatiable curiosity. It takes Kendall’s bossy-face to clear a path to Rocque Records, a straight shot right into the glass front of the building.

One of the reporters makes a joke about recruiting someone to extricate the stick up their fearless leader’s ass, and hey, isn’t Jett Stetson bi?

James chokes on his own spit. He gropes blindly for Kendall’s wrist before he can do something stupid, like call the most popular actor on New Town High a bad name. They stumble towards the studio, securely in the clear once air conditioning blasts them in the face like a Northern Wind.

Immediately, Carlos announces, “I don’t want to kiss Logan anymore. He uses too much tongue.”

“Speak for yourself, slobberer.”

“That’s not a word. Logan made up a word!”

“I’m a genius. I can make up whatever I want.”

“Guys, the reporters can still see us.” Kendall chides. He waits until Logan and Carlos appear properly cowed and then tugs his wrist free from James’s grip, starting towards the elevator, grumbling, “Jett Stetson. Did you here that? They want me to date _Jett Stetson_.”

“Jett’s not bad looking,” James replies, watching as Kendall furiously jabs the button for _up_.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, _big boy_?” Kendall enunciates, flinging himself inside the big, empty elevator the second it arrives. “You floozy.”

They all let out a breath of relief the moment the doors slide closed, sagging back against the mirrored walls. Logan says, “Remind me whose bright idea this was again?”

“Gustavo’s,” James, Kendall, and Carlos chorus.

“Right, yeah, of course.” He pauses. “Let’s yell at him.”

This seems like an extremely prudent course of action, right up until Gustavo marches up to them and intones, “ _Dogs_ ,” with equal parts smugness and intimidation. Logan bravely opens his mouth to complain, but his irritation flounders beneath Gustavo’s follow-up proclamation.

“Guess who scored a world tour?”

* * *

 

They’re popularly advertised as the world’s first entirely gay boy band. James seriously doubts the truth in that tagline. Gay culture is huge and vast, and he bets somewhere, some place, someone came up with the idea to get a bunch of gay men together with harmonies and synchronized dance moves.

The only difference being, Big Time Rush made it. They’re mainstream, totally Top 40’s material. Four (gay) hockey players from Minnesota, living the (gay) American dream, living and loving (gaily) in Hollywood.

There’s only one hitch.

All four of them are straight.

* * *

 

Carlos and Logan have been America’s cutest couple for three months.

In Hollywood time, that’s nearly ten years. Interest is waning.

Even so, Logan’s Dance of Elated Victory when Kelly informs him via a phone call that it’s time to orchestrate a break up comes off as inappropriate. He says, “Carlos, we’re through,” and wiggles his ass, stomps his feet, and proves his dance moves continue to suck.

Carlos works himself into a snit over it and yells, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” before storming out of the apartment.

Everyone snickers under their breath, except for Mrs. Knight. She shakes her head disappointedly and says, “You hurt his feelings.”

Seated at the kitchen counter with a huge plate of chicken nuggets, Kendall stops a stegosaurus on its way to his lips.

“I didn’t,” Logan insists, falling over himself to explain. “We were never really-“

James claps a hand over Logan’s mouth. Shame burns across the back of both of their necks, but what are they supposed to say?

Mrs. Knight never would have agreed to chaperone them out to Hollywood if she knew they’d all signed up for a lie.

Logan squirms free of James’s hand, announcing. “You’re right. I was insensitive. I’m going to go – apologize.”

He escapes the apartment right on time, missing the way that Kendall’s mom quietly folds up her dishtowel, murmuring, “It’s a shame. They were getting along so well.”

When she retreats to get a start on some laundry, Kendall swivels on his stool to glare.

His eyes say, _This is your fault_.

His eyes say, _I’m unhappy._

James bites down on his own tongue and looks away.

Kendall never wanted to lie. Partly because he’s a good guy, and partly because he’s about as hetero as they come.

Legend goes that Gustavo Rocque wanted to make him a solo act, but Kendall – the super hero, the white knight – argued to bring them all into the spotlight.

They love telling that story during interviews, watching Kendall shift uncomfortably in the light of their praise for his valor. Or maybe he gets jittery because of the parts they leave out. The stipulations Gustavo and the studio made, that they’d have to be _different_.

But hey, Kendall instantly agreed to the terms and conditions, all to make a single dream come true. A dream that wasn’t even his. Because of James.

Kendall condemned himself to the past four years of mistruths and loneliness, because of _James_.

James is never quite sure if he can really live that down.

“Don’t worry,” he says, refusing to meet Kendall’s eyes. “Carlos will get over it.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Kendall tells him, glancing warily at the phone. “I’m just wondering who’s next.”

“Maybe no one,” James replies, trying his damndest to be upbeat. “But probably me.”

“James.” Kendall reaches across the counter and grabs his hand, squeezing it once. Tightly. James swallows. “You don’t have to go on more publicity dates. You’re allowed to take a break.”

James withdraws his hand, ignoring the flash of hurt on Kendall’s face. “Dude. I like the dates. I like dating.”

“You like dating guys,” Kendall says, disbelievingly. “After going out with like, every single girl in the entire state of Minnesota?”

“Maybe.” James shrugs. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.

He’s not lying, is the thing.

All four members of the world’s first gay boy band are straight.

Except.

Well.

Not _all_ four of them.

* * *

 

“They have a salient point.”

“All my points are salient,” Logan agrees, intensely satisfied with his own existence.

Rage tightens James’s shoulder blades and tastes metallic in his mouth. “I don’t care if his point is salty, he’s still _wrong_.”

Logan mutters, “That’s saline,” but not so loudly that James can hear.

Its one month before their first world honest-to-god, not just in England and Canada World Tour, and the label wants to stir up some publicity. Logan and Carlos “broke up” three weeks ago, and their fragile hearts are both too tender to start new relationships.

James would like to tenderize their faces with his fist, but apparently that wouldn’t help anything.

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? We all do it,” Kendall argues. Like James doesn’t know that better than any of them. He’s been bullied into way more publicity dates than the other guys, including a three-day fling with South American singing sensation Samuel and an _entire summer_ with the popular star of the Dusk movies, Howard Pattinson.

James personifies _taking one for the team_ , but this goes too far.

“Why aren’t you? You hate this crap.”

Kendall publically shuns relationships. Officially, it’s his prerogative as the band Bad Boy. He’s about as bad as a bunny rabbit, but Griffin insists on living within the delusion, ever since the entire incident with Wayne Wayne.

Unofficially, everyone else lets Kendall avoid playing the game because he’s got a conscience the size of Guatemala, and his ability to really lie to a potential boyfriend is likely null and void.

His ability to omit the truth, however, is exemplary. In the eyes of the media, Kendall has a fling every other month. He’s been linked to all kinds of princes. There’s also that peskily persistent rumor that he’s got it bad for Jett Stetson floating around, which Kendall never confirms or denies. Ever.

James suspects he enjoys the mystery.

“I don’t- hate it.” Kendall falters. “Okay, I hate it. But it’s good for the band. I don’t want to let you guys down.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, the old gold color of it tinged with the red of Gustavo’s walls. James worries at the metaphor there. He’s constantly scared this life will bleed Kendall out.

“You don’t want to let us-?” Primly, James caps his outrage and tells him, “Dating me is a privilege, not a _burden._ ”

That’s what it comes down to, the center of this entire argument. A month until the tour, and the Big Time Rush needs some serious brownie points with the media after one ambitious reporter overheard Logan call Colourful Pants about as musical as yowling cats.

It’s shallow and underhanded, but the quickest way to jumpstart ticket sales involves parading a new relationship around town. Two boys kissing equals figurative carrion for the literal vultures.

If time allowed, they’d fabricate a new relationship with some rising industry star. But for the past few months, the guys have expended all of their energy on the band.

Their show will be explosive. Their social lives at the moment, on the other hand, are sadly lacking.

Logan, the traitor, came up with the bright idea of another in-band relationship. He balked at getting back together with Carlos, and anyone else hooking up with either of them might invite some serious backlash from all the brokenhearted cargan devotees out there.

“Kendall should date James,” Carlos threw out there, snickering, at the beginning of their marketing mash up.

His laughter died down when he realized the marketing team wasn’t laughing.

Which leaves them where they are now, with Kendall dead set on being James’s brand new boyfriend and James belligerently standing his ground.

“Christ, James. I never said anything about a burden.”

“You implied it.”

“I didn’t,” Kendall argues. “I want to help. I want to be helpful. Why won’t you let me?”

Kelly eyes James out of the corner of her dark, sharp eyes, trying to see straight to his obstinate center. Logan does the same. Gustavo and Carlos, being considerably less interested in the mechanics behind James’s internal struggle, nod along with Kendall’s plea.

“Great. Everyone’s ganging up on me.” James crosses his arms and glowers at all of them. He is thwarted by the fact that he often glowers at all of them, for messing up his hair or insulting his too-tight jeans or being humongous jerkfaces. Nobody looks even the slightest bit cowed.

Wheedling, Kendall says, “James. It’s like you don’t want to date me.”

That’s a low blow, harsher than Kendall can even know. James ducks his head and tries to flatten out the miserable downtick of his lips before anyone notices it.

“Fine, whatever,” he says. “You can be my boytoy.”

“This is a dream come true,” Kendall deadpans, slinging a heavy arm around James’s shoulders. It weighs a million pounds – too many parts friendship, too much regret.

But James leans into it, deciding it’s high time he took some extremely helpful advice he got off the internet:

If no one’s come from the future to stop you, how bad of a decision can it really be?

* * *

 

They haven’t even announced their new _relationship_ , and Kendall’s already drooling after someone else.

To be fair, Kendall has drooled over somebody else for the majority of the band’s existence. From the moment Jo Taylor walked into the Palmwoods, Kendall was lost.

James hurls a wad of paper at him. He says, “Eyes front and center, soldier.”

“I wasn’t looking anywhere but you, snookums,” Kendall replies, without detaching his eyes from Jo’s facial region. He does manage to snicker under his breath, which, _mean_.

“You’re going to hurt my feelings,” James warns, kicking out at Kendall’s knee. That only sets Kendall off harder. James tries to bore holes in his head through the power of glaring. It doesn’t work. “I’m a catch. Jerk.”

“Baby, don’t sound so wounded.” Kendall flaps a hand at him airily before flopping back on the couch. He looks like a starfish that’s decided to surrender on life. “Jo’s never going to notice me.”

“She notices you just fine.”

“Yeah, when she wants to like, go shopping.”

“Please.” Idly, James flips a page in the magazine he’s not reading. “Like anyone ever asks you to go _shopping_.”

Kendall’s eyebrows crawl up into his hairline, forming a familiar expression of outrage. “You know what I mean. She treats me like her gay best friend.”

“Honey,” James drawls in a perfect imitation of his own mother. “You _are_ her gay best friend.”

Of course, that’s not the answer that Kendall wants to hear. He crosses his arms and his legs, signaling the start of an epic sulk-fest. Whatever. He deserves it.

He deserves it because.

Because Kendall watches Jo with the reverence James usually saves for hair products or brand new Buster Clydes. He exalts her upon a pedestal marked for the penultimate girl, blind to her flaws by virtue of _love_.

Kendall doesn’t know what love is.

James could show him, he’s sure. He could, but he won’t, because he has much better things to do. He slaps a magazine down on the table and announces, “New polls are out today.”

“James,” Kendall groans, because he hates a lot of things about being famous, but people speculating about his love life most of all. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s only because you know Jett won, again,” James retorts smugly.

“Why does everyone want me to hook up with Jett? All we do is antagonize each other. It’s torture.”

“That’s not torture, it’s foreplay.”

“Ohhh – yep, that’s my lunch coming back up. Excuse me,” Kendall pretends to puke over the side of the couch.

“Drama queen. They’ll stop running the polls once we go public.”

“We should talk about that,” Kendall says earnestly. “Gustavo said we’re going to have to really play it up for the cameras. Should we like, practice?”

“Practice what?” James asks.

“You know.” The tips of Kendall’s ears turn pink. “Kissing. That kind of stuff.”

James snorts, trying to cover the thunder of his heartbeat. “Are you out of practice?”

“No!” Kendall’s green eyes narrow. “Shut your face, I’m not.”

“Hey, man. I don’t know. I haven’t seen you with anyone in ages.” He makes a face. “Are you one of those sloppy kissers? Like is there going to be way too much tongue involved?”

The noise that comes from Kendall’s mouth is indignant.

This is fun.

“Like.” James lowers his voice, tapping his magazine against his knee. He glances around the lobby, covertly, and asks, “Are you a face licker?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Kendall deadpans.

James grins. “Aw, honey. You make the sweetest promises. Seriously, though. You need to relax. This will be entirely painless, okay?”

Eyeing him with blatant disbelief, Kendall replies, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t remember the last time anything with you was painless.”

James is glad for the warning, because, uh. How else is he supposed to take that?

He bites his lip and frowns down at his lap.

* * *

 

They don’t end up practicing. Before the big reveal.

James still isn’t entirely sure how he feels about any of this. Sure, Kendall’s taking one for the team, “dating” James entirely of his own volition. But the fact remains that the entire team is only pretending to be gay to validate James’s dream. Having Kendall to be his fake boyfriend when he knows Kendall likes Jo, when he knows that he’s only doing this so James can sing – it feels a little gross, a little rapey.

That doesn’t stop James from standing by Kendall’s side outside Rocque Records, running his fingers up and down the other boy’s sides. Kendall stares up at him with luminous green eyes, the sunlight turning them clear, twin pools of moss. He quirks a smile, because Kendall is always game for a challenge. He asks, “Are you ready?”

They know there are reporters lurking in the bushes. Gustavo paid some of them to be there. Some of them merely play the stalking game twenty four seven. But the point is, they’re supposed to be there. This is Kendall and James’s staged coming out party, so to speak.

“We don’t have to,” James says. He doesn’t move his hands, settling them at Kendall’s waist, wrapping around to brush against the dimples at the small of Kendall’s back. “We really don’t.”

Kendall stands on his tippy toes. He murmurs, “What are you afraid of?”

Then his mouth is on James’s. His lips are warm and chapped. He tastes like sunlight and _Kendall_. James can’t handle the sensory overload. His mouth falls open, tonguing deeper into Kendall without meaning to.

Kendall gamely responds, pulling James closer against the hard lines of his body. For a few seconds, they are the entire world, regardless of camera clicks or LA traffic or anything else. James is drowning in the feel of Kendall, chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth, the scent and taste of him overwhelming. Kendall kisses him like it’s natural, like they’ve always done this, laughing against James’s lips, running a hand through his hair.

James can’t even recite the number of times he’s wanted this; in his dreams, in his waking dreams, _always_. That number’s too high, in the thousands, stretching back to before James can even remember.

That’s the thought that breaks him free.

He gasps for breath, short, shallow swallows. He says, “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Kendall grins, devil-may-care and bright.

* * *

 

The headlines follow the exact narrative Gustavo was looking for. Everyone loves a new romance, especially among BTR’s resident bad boy and the band’s biggest player. There’s already speculation about when James and Kendall’s _blossoming love_ will end in tragedy.

Carlos, for his part, finds the whole thing hilarious. He cracks jokes about Kendall and James’s front page kiss at every opportunity, gleeful over how handsy they got.

“Be careful,” he warns at breakfast, “Or Gustavo will start making us wear purity rings.”

“Har-de-har-har.” Kendall swings an arm around Carlos’s neck, drawing him in for a noogie. Carlos shrieks and squirms, but can’t get away. “Say uncle.”

“Never!”

James watches them with detached interest, while Logan looks completely bemused. He says, “Purity rings would be completely against our image.”

“You’re taking this too seriously,” James tells him.

“Excuse me for thinking accuracy is important.”

“Say it,” Kendall urges, digging his knuckles into Carlos’s scalp.

“Surrender is not an option!”

Kendall emphasizes, “Un. _Cle_ ,” really going to town.

Carlos screeches and wiggles, fighting to escape his grip, but to no avail. Finally, he pants, “Uncle, uncle, uncle.”

Satisfied, Kendall sits back on his heels. “I win.”

“When do you not?” Carlos grumps.

Ever the peacemaker, Logan interjects, “So how was it? Kissing each other?”

“Why?” James tilts his chair back on its legs, waggling his eyebrows. “Want to try it out?”

“Gross.” Logan crosses his arms and shrugs. “The first time Carlos and I had to, it was weird.”

“The last time we had to, it was weird too,” Carlos offers, perking up. “And every time in between.”

Logan sticks out his tongue. “Maybe if you’d stopped trying to grope my ass-“

“You’re the one who put his hands under my shirt, that one time-“

“Lies. You’re a lying liar who lies and lies and tells so many lies!”

“Guys! It was fine,” Kendall interrupts. He cuts his eyes towards James. “I mean, I think it was fine.”

Fine is a less impressive word than _wow_ , but James doesn’t feel much like arguing. He’s confident in his skills. He’s haunted by the memory of that perfect kiss, sunlight on the back of his neck and want pooling in the hollows of his stomach, his bones, his heart.

He doesn’t know if Kendall feels the way – he’s certain, actually, that he doesn’t. But that doesn’t stop the memory from warming James from the inside out. He echoes Kendall’s sentiment with the ghost of a smile, an uptick at the corner of his lips that disappears as quickly as it comes.

“Yeah, dude. It was definitely, definitely fine.”

* * *

 

The second time they kiss, they’re at a party.

James is riding a happy wave, high on champagne and praise. He dances his feelings, moving over the floor until he’s sweating bullets, plucking ice cubes from a cup and rubbing them against his pulse points. He catches Kendall watching from the bar; throws him a carefree smile. Kendall returns it and beckons him over, one finger crooked enticingly in the air.

With a shrug, James extracts himself from his current partner, a hard-bodied brunet with the promise of mischief in his eyes. The boy makes a noise of protest as James strides away.

He throws himself across the bar, bouncing up on his toes. “What’s up, man?”

Kendall reaches out to touch his slightly-damp hair. His lips twist fondly. “You’re dancing up a storm.”

“And you’re not,” James pouts. “You’re so uptight.”

Kendall raises his glass, laughing. “I’m just thirsty.”

“Drink and dance!”

“I’d rather watch.” Kendall grins and jerks his chin towards the boy James left on the dance floor. “I think your boyfriend misses you.”

James doesn’t bother looking. He sways in close and says, “You’re my boyfriend.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Kendall pushes his fingers through his own hair, and James thinks absently about sucking on each in turn. “Do you want a drink?”

“I’d rather have you,” James replies languidly. The banter is easy, practiced. His subject is not, but Kendall doesn’t seem thrown.

He smiles and says, “You think you’re fooling me with your flirty drunken manwhore routine, but you’re not. At all.”

“Oh yeah?” James asks, leaning closer still. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m serious?”

Kendall takes the bait, leaning up to catch James’s lips. The kiss is short and sweet, and when it’s over, he says seriously, “You don’t have to do anything at all.”

It’s a show for their audience, the dance-floor harlot and the many, many Rocque Records investors that are standing nearby, everyone with their camera phones at the ready. But it still sets James’s heart thumping, a steady beatbox that feels like it could conceivably break through his ribcage.

He says, “Maybe I’ll take that drink.”

Kendall’s eyes are dancing. He turns towards a server and asks for two gin fizzes, while James watches the way that his body curves, the plush of his lips in that ever-present smirk, and the bob of his throat as he speaks.

Not for the first time, James thinks Kendall is a miracle.

His hero-boy.

His knight-in-shining-armor.

* * *

 

There is James before the band and James after, and sometimes he wishes he could go back and fix things so that he would never become the person he is now.

He never felt like he had to hide, back in Minnesota. There were parts of himself he wasn’t quite ready to reveal, but it was different. Telling the truth was a choice he would grow into, eventually. Probably.

Now, all his choices have been whisked away. If he admits to his friends that he really, actually is gay, he’s not sure if they’ll ever forgive him. They’ve been living a lie for years now, all to make sure James’s dream manifested. What would they think if they found out that James isn’t suffering the way that they’ve been?

What would they think if they knew that he’s finally able to be… _himself_?

* * *

 

They have to go on dates.

Real dates, minus Logan and Carlos, who are none too pleased about being left alone on Friday and Saturday evenings.

“I spent three months carting this doofus into fancy restaurants and science symposiums, and now I have to spend the entire weekend kicking his ass at Halo?” Logan whines.

“Hey!” Carlos yelps through a mouthful of Cheetos. “’m the one whose gonna kick your ass.”

“Can’t be helped, Logiebear,” Kendall tells him without any apparent trace of regret. He ruffles Logan’s hair and says, “We’ll be home before midnight.”

“Or we turn into pumpkins,” James adds helpfully.

Logan frowns. “Or you just get very, very cranky during our six am wakeup call.”

“That too.”

“Enough jibber jabber,” Kendall cuts in. “I’ve got romancing to do.”

“Gross.” Logan makes a face, throwing his feet over Carlos’s lap on the couch. They’ve been mighty cozy since their not-relationship. It’s like whatever borders were left in their friendship dissipated upon first kiss, never to reappear. “Better out there in the world than in here. Shoo.”

Obediently, James puts a hand on the small of Kendall’s back, ushering him out of apartment 2J.

“No! Don’t leave me here with him!” Carlos protests lazily, calling out, “You know, I hear the best kind of date is to watch Netflix and chill!”

Kendall snorts. In the hallway, he turns, guiding James’s hand so that it never leaves the indents of his hips and tailbone. He leans in and says, “I think he’s onto something.”

James blinks. “You know no one is watching us right now?”

“And?” Kendall’s eyes are doing that thing, the unfair thing, where they twinkle and spark. He’s all mischief and challenges, only for once, James isn’t sure what the challenge is.

“And you can drop the act.”

If Kendall is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He turns back towards the elevator with a soft laugh, saying, “Aw, James. You’re no fun.”

Before James can bother getting worked up about the insult, Kendall reaches back to grab his hand, lacing their fingers together. He squeezes, and James squeezes back.

They’re ready to go face the world, brothers in arms.

Or three hours of a crappy Hollywood thriller, where they’ll throw popcorn at each other and occasionally sneak kisses when they know someone is looking.

Same thing.

* * *

 

There’s this one time where they’re at a date in a fancy restaurant, one of those brand spanking new hotspots with a three year waiting list that popstars and Oscar winners never, ever have to put their names on. Kendall’s staring at the menu like it’s written in Mandarin, which James figures it might be, for all the sense it makes.

He knows that the words printed in delicate script across the brown-edged parchment paper are types of food, but they’re certainly not types of food that he’s ever heard of. They barely sound edible. “Okay, what’s a sunchoke again? Because that doesn’t sound like a real thing.”

“Fuck if I know.” Kendall squints. “I’m still trying to figure out what schmaltz is. I thought that was another word for cheesy?”

“Is compressed celery the same as normal celery?” James replies instead of answering, because yeah, he has no idea what schmaltz is. He barrels on, “Don’t answer that. I don’t even like celery.”

“Kohlrabi isn’t a word. They’re making things up.” Kendall slaps his menu down on the table and announces. “I hate it here.”

“We can’t leave. Kelly will kill us.”

Kendall jerks his head towards the reporters lurking in the park across the street, the lenses of their cameras flashing every time a car’s headlights hits them just right. “Do you really think they’ll care if we ditch our fancy pants and head over to Taco Bell?”

“I think they’ll wonder why we bothered coming in the first place.” James lowers his voice. “Besides, it might hurt the restaurant’s reputation. I’m sure people worked hard on making this…whatever all this is.”

Softening, Kendall exhales a tiny laugh, the fondest thing. He says, “You never change.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. We’re famous. We’re rich. We don’t have to answer to anybody. But you still care about hurting people’s feelings.”

James’s skin feels like it’s on too tight. He’s embarrassed because he forgets, sometimes. He forgets how well Kendall knows him, and how he can see right through him.

Kendall reaches across the table for James’s hand. He looks like the gesture comes naturally to him. James still has to force himself not to flinch. He lets Kendall touch him, winding their fingers together.

The reporters are probably having a field day.

Kendall doesn’t even care. He gives James the warmest, happiest smile. Then he says, “Do you think we can convince the chef to make tacos?”

* * *

 

The part that James can’t take is the touching. It is constant and torturous.

The guys touch each other all the time, obviously, but since he and Kendall became an _item_ , it’s increased tenfold.

James is hard like, all the time.

He’s used to that, to a certain degree. He spent a fair amount of his formative years learning how to hide surprise boners after all kinds of full body contact, from tackle-hugs to actual hockey tackles. But there’s a difference between those early teenage experiments in what did and didn’t turn James on and now.

That difference being that for all intents and purposes, they’re dating.

Even so, James figures Kendall wouldn’t love it if he springs wood in the middle of an intense makeout session for the media’s benefit, when they’re up close and intimate, pressed dick to dick. Not that things have gotten that hot and heavy. Yet.

James is looking forward to the idea and dreading it in equal measure.

In typical Kendall fashion, Kendall’s completely oblivious that this is even a concern. He’s prancing around the apartment the same way he always has, except with all the extra touching. James isn’t sure if he’s doing it to convince his mom that their story’s legit or to see how far he can go without Mrs. Knight blowing a gasket.

The answer to the latter, as far as James can tell, is basically a homerun all the way into the dugout, because Kendall’s mom appears to be supremely unperturbed by the developing romance between her son and her almost-son.

If anything, she seems to have expected it; the day they made headlines, she didn’t even bat an eye.

So Kendall gets away with flaunting all these little gestures of affection, and James can’t keep his dick in a state that isn’t erect for more than five minutes, and life would basically be hell if it wasn’t all also a little bit wonderful. The guilt tastes like ash on James’s tongue, but he’s living every single one of his dreams. That should count for something.

Right?

* * *

 

Gustavo is happy as a clam. The preparations for their tour are almost complete, and soon enough they’ll be whirlwinding their way around the world, listening to prepubescent screams across stadiums globe-wide. He tells Kendall and James, “Keep up the good work.”

He tells Carlos and Logan, “Work on your choreography. You look like dancing hyenas.”

It’s unfair criticism. Only Logan is hyena-like. Carlos moves his hips like waves rolling onto the beach.

Kelly says, “You’ve done an amazing job, guys. _I’m_ almost convinced.”

Slyly, Kendall asks, “Only almost?”

She raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t think you’d be so into this. You know you’re dating James, right?”

“What’s wrong with James?” He slings an arm around James’s shoulders and says, “He’s my best bud.”

“And a fantastic kisser,” James adds, being ridiculous because it’s what they expect.

Kendall grins. “And a fantastic kisser.”

“Gloating isn’t nice,” Carlos exclaims. “Logan sucks at kissing.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

They both look at Kendall, ever the fearless leader, waiting for him to resolve their fight. Kendall just shrugs. “No offense, Logiebear, but I’m not kissing you.”

“You kiss James!”

“We pay him to kiss James,” Kelly offers, like that helps in any way at all. James frowns. He’s never really thought about it like that before.

Kendall obviously feels the same way. He says, “Now I feel like a prostitute.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kelly rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Property damage to be causing?”

“That sounds way more fun than being here.” Logan grabs Carlos by the arm, muttering, “I do not suck at kissing.”

Carlos obediently follows Logan down the hall, protesting, “You really, really do.”

“How would you even know? It’s not like you’ve got experience with anyone else.”

James and Kendall trail in their footsteps, listening to the argument progress. They hear Kelly make an exasperated noise behind them, but Kendall doesn’t seem to care. He says, “Hey,” and knocks their shoulders together. “For what it’s worth, I’d kiss you for free.”

James knows he doesn’t mean it, but the words still makes him smile.

* * *

 

Sometimes, James catches Kendall staring at Jo.

Or thinking about Jo.

Or babbling endlessly about fucking Jo.

That’s when he really starts to think about what his own selfishness is costing them.

Kendall smiles, all the time, sure. He gives every appearance of being satisfied with the way things are. But he’s a serial monogamist, the only guy from their sophomore class back in Minnesota who managed to keep a girlfriend for more than three months. He can’t be okay with any of this.

He and James are supposed to be something else, different people, the best of friends. This forced intimacy festers between them, and sometimes James allows himself to hope that maybe, maybe if they could satiate it, everything else would be fixed.

But if it was that easy, if James could fuck away the hollow spaces in Kendall’s belly, they would’ve taken that step a long time ago. The truth is that Kendall just doesn’t feel that way about him; _can’t_ feel that way about him, because he’s not gay.

And James is. Gay. Definitely. Any lingering doubts he had left from semi-successful dates with girls have been completely abolished with that first press of Kendall’s lips.

In retrospect, it makes him wish he’d committed more fully to all those publicity dates he had before, to that guy from the stupid sparkly vampire movies or the one Brazilian pop singer with the really, really hard abs. He’d had his fun and played around, but he’d never given any of them a serious chance because…because, well, how could they ever match up to Kendall? And if no one could match Kendall Knight, then how could James ever know whether what he felt about his sexuality, about his crushes on people across the spectrum, was real?

Maybe it was all just a fiction he made up to distract himself from never being able to have what he wanted. Or maybe it was just that; James wanted Kendall because he couldn’t have him. That was what he thought before.

Now he knows better; he has Kendall, kind of, and he wants him more desperately with each passing day.

Not that he can tell Kendall that when he’s waxing poetic about Jo’s hair. Or boobs. Or something. James hasn’t really been listening.

“She’s perfect,” Kendall sighs. They’re taking a break in the recording studio, Logan outside the booth with a text propped on his lap, Carlos talking animatedly at Kelly, who is feigning interest in that polite, charitable way she has while also multitasking like a pro.

“I’m perfect,” James objects. “Everyone else wishes they could come close.”

“James, your modesty is one of your most charming qualities,” Kendall replies seriously, kicking his feet over James’s lap. Then he barrels on, “You know I almost kissed her?”

“Who? Jo?” Voice neutral, James swallows. He doesn’t think he likes where this is going, envy a knot in his stomach.

“Yeah.” Kendall grins, open and happy. “We had a moment.”

“A moment,” James repeats.

“It was great.”

“I bet.”

Kendall must hear something in his tone, because the smile drops straight off his face. “Relax, honeybear. You’re still my favorite girl.”

“I think it’s great.”

“Sure you do.” Kendall is examining him now, his hands propped on the couch cushions so that he can propel himself closer to James’s face. “Do you not like Jo?”

James frowns. “Jo’s…Jo’s…swell.”

“Swell,” Kendall repeats incredulously. “Where’d the rest of your barbershop quartet disappear to?”

James tries to shove him away, one handed. Kendall doesn’t budge. “You’re being a jerk.”

“You’re being…I’m not entirely sure what you’re being.” Green eyes wide, Kendall continues, “It’s like you’re jealous, or something.”

James thinks about how he can still taste Kendall’s kisses from their morning outing on his lips. He thinks about it and says, “Fuck you. I’m not jealous.”

Kendall snorts, but he doesn’t look amused. Or like he believes James, not even a little bit.

“Do you like Jo?”

“Do I _what_ now?”

“Do. You. Like. Jo?” Kendall emphasizes, blowing out a puff of hot air, a forceful exhalation. He swipes angrily at one of the water bottles crowded on a little table in the corner, brandishing it in the air. “I can’t think of another reason for you to be acting crazy.”

James is _not_ crazy. He is, however, angry.

“I’m sick of acting,” He announces. James crowds Kendall back against the studio wall, embers in his eyes. “You need to make a decision.”

Kendall’s lips turn down. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He looks genuinely upset about the notion, like he’s so used to knowing what’s on James’s mind that being shut out hurts. James says, “Just. If you want Jo, fucking date Jo. Stop playing this game.”

“I’m playing this game for _you_!” Kendall shouts, and that’s a slap in the face. James takes a step back.

“I never asked you to.” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t even sound mad anymore. For once, James Diamond is the perfect picture of calm. “Do what you want. Talk to Jo. You and I, we’re over.”

Kendall stares at him. He says, “James. We never even started.”

That’s pretty much the problem.

Kendall walks out of the sound booth with his head ducked and his hands shoved in his pockets, looking for all the world like a kicked dog. James takes a deep breath and leans back against the wall. It’s better this way, probably. He decides that it’s definitely better this way.

When he comes out, Carlos says, “Hey. Kendall looked pretty pissed. What were you guys fighting about?”

James cuffs his neck. “Nothing important, Carlitos.”

“It looked pretty important,” Logan observes.

It felt pretty important too. 

* * *

 

Kendall takes James’s advice. He tells Jo everything on a Sunday evening when the LA sky smells like eucalyptus and lightning. She’s every bit as perfect and understanding as James expected she would be. And if Kendall’s massive crush on her comes as a surprise, it doesn’t stop her from saying yes when he asks her to be his girlfriend.

His real girlfriend, whereas James is – was – a giant fake.

It’s good though. Kendall is happy. And James likes seeing him happy. Even if that happiness creates an abyssal hole in his chest, an ache that feels like it might never end.

They still have to keep up the charade that they’re in love in front of Mrs. Knight, and for Gustavo too. But when Kendall takes his hand outside Rocque Records, it’s with a cool detachment that never existed before. When they kiss, Kendall is pulling away before it even starts.

They’re professionals, so they make it look good. But if there’s one thing James has learned in Hollywood, it’s that looks don’t mean a damn thing.

* * *

 

“You look miserable,” Carlos tells him one morning.

James does not say that he _is_ miserable, or that he caught Kendall sneaking back to his room at the break of dawn. That would be revealing more than he is willing to share. What he does say is a gruff, “I’m fine,” that fools nobody.

“Are things okay with you and Kendall. You guys have seemed…weird, since he started seeing Jo.”

Carlos and Logan know about Kendall’s extracurriculars because obviously, they tell each other everything. They’re happy that Kendall’s managed to find a life on the dl, even if they’re both a bit worried that Jo will give the gig up.

“Kendall just,” James starts and then pauses. “He’s.” James really has no idea where he’s going with this. He collapses on the couch and exhales, “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Carlos settles his butt down next to James, ready to lend a shoulder to cry on, or punch, or whatever he needs. Carlos is pretty great like that.

“Anything. I’m not used to being the mature one here.”

“No one expects you to be the mature one.” Carlos wrinkles his nose. “What are you guys fighting about?”

“We’re not fighting. I told him to go date Jo. I think he’s mad at me about that.”

Carlos’s eyes widen. “Oh. You hurt his feelings.”

“ _I_ hurt _his_ feelings?”

“Kendall gave up all that stuff, _girls_ , to give you this. Big Time Rush.”

“I’m going to tell you exactly what I told him which is that I didn’t ask for that!”

“You didn’t have to ask, dude. Kendall always bends over backwards to make you happy.”

“He does that for all of us.”

“Yeah, of course. He’s a good guy. But he does it the most for you,” Carlos says emphatically. “He likes you best, James. He always has. It wouldn’t kill you to show him you appreciate it.”

“I don’t appreciate it! I don’t want Kendall to put his life on pause just so I can be happy.” It’s probably the most selfless thing that has ever spouted from James’s lips. Even Carlos looks taken aback.

“Dude. You’re growing as a person.”

“I’d rather not. How do I stop?”

“Why would you want to stop?”

“I ruined your lives.” James throws up his arms in exasperation. “And I can’t even enjoy it.”

“You didn’t ruin our lives. You didn’t ruin _my_ life. I love it here.”

That halts James’s tirade in its tracks. “You are?”

“I love California. I love singing with you guys. The lying isn’t…you know, my favorite part in the world, but. It’s worth it. I get to do something I’m passionate about with my best friends. Who cares how I got here?”

It’s maybe not the most uplifting pep talk James has ever heard, but it does the trick.

* * *

 

“Hey. Can I talk to you?” James leans against the doorframe of Kendall’s bedroom.

Kendall’s getting ready for bed, his blond hair hanging messy in his eyes, his hipbones jutting from comfy flannel pants. He is magnetic, the only thing James can see. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” James stalks into the bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him. He takes a dive onto Kendall’s comforter, twisting his body until he’s comfortable, ignoring the face that Kendall makes. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I kissed you on the sidewalk yesterday.”

“For the cameras!” James frowns up at him, Kendall’s chest pale, the tiny red-purple hickey on his neck standing out in stark contrast. “I’m not the only one you’ve been kissing.”

“That’s not really any of your business.”

“I’m your best friend. Of course it’s my business.”

That, at least, gets Kendall to soften. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m.” He rakes a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I’m not sure what I am.”

“Confused?” James asks, nearly choking on a bitter laugh.

“So confused,” Kendall agrees. He pokes James in the side. “Scoot over.”

Obligingly, James does. He shimmies over so that Kendall can lay down beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kendall shoves his shoulder. “Gay.”

Taking a deep breath, James replies, “I am. Actually.”

“Sure.” Kendall blinks, green eyes going wide. “Wait, what?”

“I’m gay,” James says, and it might be the first time he’s said it out loud and meant it.

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

He doesn’t, though, is the thing. James likes who he is. He likes kissing boys. He likes the way they feel under his hands. He only wishes he’d been able to tell Kendall in his own time, in his own way, without all the pressure of their fake-dating weighing him down.

“James.” Kendall’s eyes are wide, that bright, pretty green circled by rings of white. “How long have you-“

“Always. I’ve always known. Mostly,” James amends, because for a while there, he was definitely thinking he was bi. “I’m sorry that you got roped into lying for me. I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to tell you that it isn’t a lie.”

“James. _I’m_ sorry. I’m the one who thought this was a good idea, but the whole time you’ve been –“ Kendall bites off his words. “We threw all those jokes in your face. We were awful; it must have been torture.”

“You’ve spent the past few years pretending to be something you’re not. Compared to that, I can take a little mockery.”

“You should have had to, though.” Kendall shimmies a little closer, his nose nearly bumping James’s. “We’re your best friends. We’re supposed to support you.”

“You have supported me. You supporting me is the only reason I get to go out there and sing. That’s been my dream since as long as I can remember, dude.” James grins fondly. “Trust me. I think you’ve fulfilled your best friend duties pretty soundly.”

Kendall’s teeth flash bright and white. “Happy to oblige.”

“How are things with Jo?” James asks, because he can’t not.

“She’s great. We’re great.” Kendall rolls onto his back. “I don’t think she loves us making out in the tabloids, but.”

“We can stop,” James offers, his heart sinking. “Fuck Gustavo. I’m not going to ruin the first good thing you’ve had in years.”

“You’re a good thing,” Kendall tells him, wending an arm around James’s waist. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Warmed inside, James snuggles in close to Kendall.

He’s careful not to cross the line of affection now that Kendall knows everything, but it’s nice, just being close. “I’m sleeping here tonight, okay?”

Kendall, apparently, doesn’t know there is a line. He grabs James by the waist and pulls him even closer, burying his head against James’s collarbone. “Mmkay.”

They fall asleep like that, intertwined, and James thinks that maybe things will be alright.

* * *

 

Things aren’t alright.

James thought kissing Kendall while obscuring the truth from him was hard.

It’s harder knowing that Kendall knows, that he knows and then still goes right back to Jo after they’re done hamming it up for the cameras. Not that Kendall knows _everything_ , to be fair.

He never once asked if James had real feelings for him. That’s not the kind of thing a person asks their bro, even if they find out said bro’s sexuality isn’t as straight and narrow as they once thought. Still, James simply didn’t account for how absolutely agonizing it would be to have laid himself bare in front of his best friend and be found wanting.

He hates Jo a little, even though it’s not her fault. She’s pretty and nice and she’s never done anything wrong to James, honestly. They’ve probably only ever had a handful of conversations, all of which went off without a hitch. But that doesn’t stop him from hating her, from thinking that she’s using Kendall to personally victimize James. It’s irrational, but James figures most heart-related things are.

He's probably not doing a great job hiding it, either. “Looking for something, buddy?”

Kendall stands in the middle of 2J, hands on his hips. “Have you seen my blue hoodie?”

“Do I look like your mother?” James retorts, even though he saw Carlos wearing said hoodie half an hour before, on his way out the door with the Jennifers.

“Maybe, if your hair was longer.” Kendall throws him a cocky grin and says, “You got plans for today?”

James shrugs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m headed out.”

“Where to?”

“A movie.” He pauses, and then adds, “With Dak.”

“Zevon?” Kendall’s eyebrows shoot up, grin dimming. Dak’s out; has been since he cut his contract with the Varsity Vampire franchise. “Is that smart?”

“We’re just friends.”

He’s defensive because the insinuation is gross. Like two guys – who like guys – can’t go out together without there being something more.

He’s defensive because maybe it’s true. Dak’s asked him out a couple of times, but James never bothered taking it seriously. There’s no reason not to, now. As long as they keep it under wraps; James is officially with Kendall, and Dak’s on some family show that wouldn’t love him running around with the King Slut of Big Time Rush, but that’s how Hollywood works. Everything that makes the papers is orchestrated in some way, shape, or form. The real stuff, from relationships to family drama; it’s all hidden away from the puppet masters.

Kendall knows that as much as anybody. All he says is, “Are you?”

“Yes,” James grits out. He doesn’t know why he’s lying. He doesn’t want to keep anything from Kendall, not anymore. Not if he can help it. “I mean. No. It’s a date. Maybe.” He shifts from foot to foot, clenching his fingers inside his pockets. “Is that okay?”

Kendall is staring at a spot somewhere near James’s feet. His smile is gone, now. “Hey, as long as you’re happy.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

That grabs the blond’s attention. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I guess I just want what you and Jo have.” What _Jo_ has. “I’ve never really taken any of this – dating – seriously before.”

“Yeah.” Kendall’s face is inscrutable. “I know.”

“You did?”

He shrugs, meeting James’s eyes. “Was never sure why. You’re great. You’re wonderful, James. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m trying.”

“With Dak.”

“With Dak,” James agrees. He wants to tell Kendall the truth about it all, about everything. But all that’s going to do is make him feel better. Kendall will feel like shit, because he doesn’t think about James that way. He’s not gay. He’s not even bi. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah. Well. I’ve got a date. With Jo,” he adds, like that last part is necessary. For Kendall, it’s always been Jo.

Which hurts, but. He doesn’t belong to James. He had the chance to stake his claim, to tell Kendall how he really felt. He didn’t take it, and now Kendall is Jo’s. James has to deal with that. “Have fun, man.”

Uncertainly, Kendall replies, “I will.”

* * *

 

The movie and Dak are not terrible.

Correction, the movie is terrible, but Dak is cool.

James knew that, already. Katie’s invited him to dinner on no less than five separate occasions, and Dak took her up on at least three of them. He likes Katie, and he likes the guys. He’s pretty down to earth for a movie star. Plus, he really _gets_ the things James likes, such as hair products and leather jackets.

“I hate dating in this town,” Dak tells him over dinner; the burger and fries they snuck into the back of the theater, where they are determinedly not watching the movie made of awful.

“Me too,” James replies through a mouthful of burger. He’s not even bothering trying to be attractive; he’s _comfortable_ , of all things. No butterflies, no electricity. James isn’t sure liking someone is supposed to be this way. Then again, James isn’t even sure he likes Dak. It takes the pressure off. “Like, first of all, why does every single actress out there have a matchmaker? I didn’t even know matchmakers were a thing until I moved here.”

“Exactly!” Dak brightens, stealing one of James’s fries. “And publicity dating? It’s the worst!” He looks slightly chastened when he notices James’s expression. “I mean, we all have to do it, obviously. But doesn’t it suck?”

“Yeah.” James takes a sip of his coke and thinks of Kendall. “It blows.”

“Did I hit a nerve? I know you’ve got that thing with Knight…That’s got to be weird. Dating your best friend.”

“Nah.” James squirms in his seat a little. “It’s Kendall. I’ve had to fake-date worse.”

“Oh! Like that one guy from the Vampires Stories Chronicles Saga Trilogy,” Dak exclaims.

James eyes him. “Are you press-stalking me?”

“Would I ever?” Dak grins, cheeky and bright. “You’re cute. Sue me.”

Someone a few rows up turns to shush them. Dak throws a fry at their head.

He’s funny. He’s charming. He’s really fucking handsome.

He’s not Kendall.

James sighs, “Do you want to hit a bar after this?”

Dak bares his teeth, half mischief, half curious, lopsided smile. “Won’t that get you in trouble with, um, everyone?”

“Who cares?” James flashes his own grin, brilliant in the gray dark of the movie theater. “I want to show you off.”

He can’t think up a better way to fuck up everything.

* * *

 

He and Dak cut out of the movie halfway through, running down the aisles of the theater with huffed laughter and too much eagerness. When they spill out onto the streets, lit by sunset and headlights, the purple-tinged fingers of evening are only just beginning to take the sky.

They make their way to a bar nearby, where they slam back tequila shots, spinning on the stools and flirting with the man serving them drinks. They’re young and hot and rich as fuck, without a care in the world for just these few hours, and when Dak grips the front of James’s t-shirt and draws him into a kiss, James goes, easily.

He doesn't know a single reason why he shouldn’t.

* * *

 

Kendall’s sitting next to him on the studio couch the next day, holding himself stiffly. Carlos jostles James on one side, digging his elbows into his ribcage in an attempt to tackle Logan, on the other side of Kendall. Logan dodges by doing the sensible thing; standing up, and Carlos yells, “Give me back my corndogs!”

James tries to throw a conspiratorial look Kendall’s way, but instead, Kendall evades his eyes.

So then James pokes him in the shoulder. “What’s up, man? How was your date?”

“Fine,” Kendall replies tersely. “Were you making out with Dak at a bar last night?”

He seems…displeased by the concept. James shrugs. “I might have been.”

At that, Kendall’s face wrinkles up, something like anger and pain all wrapped into one. “Did you go home with him?”

“Does it matter?” James asks, lowering his voice to counteract the way Kendall’s is rising.

“It matters because it’s all over Perez. They think you’re cheating on me.”

The accusation is completely unjustified because, “I’m not. You know I’m not. There’s nothing to even cheat on.”

“No one outside this studio even knows that!”

“So we’ll tell them. We say we broke up, and-“

“I don’t want to break up!” Kendall nearly shouts, and that gets Logan and Carlos’s attention.

“You’re breaking up?” Logan asks doubtfully. “Is that a good idea right now?”

Kendall crosses his arms and glares. “Ask James. He’s the one who decided to stick his tongue in Dak Zevon’s mouth in front of every reporter in Hollywood.”

“James.” Carlos does a very good job of looking incredibly disappointed in all that James represents.

James hates when Carlos looks at him like that, like he’s fallen off a pedestal he didn’t even know he was on. He glowers at Kendall. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

“Make me.”

James is this close to punching Kendall in the face when Kelly and Gustavo enter the office, looking equally disenchanted with James Diamond as a general whole. “Boys.”

Carlos and Logan hop to their feet, with Kendall moving to follow. Before he can, James catches his elbow.

“What do you mean you don’t want to break up?” He demands lowly. His fingers dig into Kendall’s arm, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that everyone’s looking at them, and he doesn’t care that he’s causing a scene. He waits for Kendall’s answer, breath bated, his heart a kickdrum in his chest.

Kelly, however, does care. “ _Later_ , James.”

“I want to know,” he insists, watching Kendall’s eyes. They’re frightened, a little, all white around the iris; Kendall’s breath is panting out hot and heavy. He’s scared. Of James.

That’s not a thing that’s ever happened before.

Kelly repeats, “Later,” and this time she’s not messing around. With an air of someone about to do something incredibly unpleasant, she proclaims, “Right now, we’re all going to have a talk.”

* * *

 

James gets yelled at. A lot. He refuses to tell anyone if he slept with Dak – it’s not their business – and that just makes Gustavo go red in the face. They can’t spin the story if they don’t know the story, after all.

Kendall’s the worst part, though. He sits there, mutely, and lets James take it. He doesn’t once jump to his defense, the way he has ever since they were toddlers. James can’t recall Kendall ever letting him get reamed out like this before.

It’s like he turned in his knight-in-shining-armor card at the door.

Afterwards, Carlos is near tears. He keeps turning his big, brown cow eyes on James, all wet and glistening and. He’s acting like someone kicked his puppy, but in this case, James isn’t sure if he’s the puppy or the puppy-kicker.

James hates it.

Logan, for his part, doesn’t care one way or another. Logan still plan on a future as a doctor, so he's not really bothered if their entire career goes down the drain.

That’s not true, or fair to Logan, but he is being annoyingly practical.

“You guys weren’t even really together. I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he grumps at both of them in the town car back home.

Kendall ignores him.

James rolls his eyes and stares out the window. It doesn’t help. He can still see the reflection of Carlos’s accusing eyes in the glass. He can still feel the hot press of Kendall’s thigh against his.

* * *

 

James bullies his way into Kendall’s room the second they get home. The door’s locked, but that doesn’t keep him out; he didn’t play hockey for nothing.

It would be incredibly intrusive if it wasn’t Kendall, his best friend from forever and ever. Space isn’t a concept they’re incredibly familiar with, and the way he acted, he doesn’t deserve privacy. That’s what James (guiltily) tells himself, anyway, when Kendall yells, “What the hell, man?”

He shoves at Kendall’s shoulders, “What the hell right back? Why were you being such a little bitch back there?”

“I- you.” Kendall bites back whatever nasty thing is on his tongue, taking a deep breath. “Whoa. Back off. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down when you were back there, acting like a fucking child.”

Kendall blinks at him. “Well. I’m not the one acting like a child now, am I?”

That gets James to stop. He takes a stumbling step back and says, “I don’t get it. You said you wanted me to be happy.” His voice is like a crying toddler’s, tiny and wretched. “Didn’t you mean that?”

Eyebrows rocketing up, Kendall grabs for him, steadies him. “Hey, yeah, of course. Of course I want you to be happy, dummy.”

“Then what was _that_?” James waves a limp hand in what he assumes to be the general direction of the studio outside their apartment walls. (It’s not.)

“That was. That was.” Kendall squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his fingers into James’s skin. “It wasn’t one of my shining moments. I got jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Of you and Dak.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I really don’t,” James replies, dizzy and confused. “Do you like Dak?’

Kendall barks out a laugh, rough and warm. “God, no.”

“Then what?”

Kendall squares his shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. It’s the look he gets on the ice, right before a game-winning shot. It’s the look he wears on stage when he is so fucking _on_ that they give the best show of their lives. It’s Kendall’s war-face, and James can’t remember the last time he had it directed his way.

“James. I’m going to kiss you,” Kendall announces, like it’s a thing that’s just occurred to him, something they’ve never done before. And in a way, it isn’t, because.

Because.

James stammers, “T-there aren’t any cameras here.”

And Kendall replies, “I know.”

Then he leans across the space between them anyway, brushing their lips together. It’s soft, and sweet, and over much too soon.

As soon as James is able to draw in a solid breath, he asks, “What about Jo?”

“Jo and I broke up.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” James asks, outraged. Did she think Kendall wasn’t good enough for her? Did she think she could do _better_? He knows he’s just getting mad so he can ignore the thundering pound of his heart, but still. Anger feels good.

“Because I think my best friend is in love with me,” Kendall says.

His heart stutters to a standstill. “I. Um. I. Uh.”

Kendall steps even closer, their noses bumping. “I think I might be in love with him, too.”

Oh.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” James asks, having trouble believing it.

“Why didn’t you?” Kendall purses his lips. “I thought I didn’t have a chance with you, James. Why would I? You’re-“ Stupid. Silly. _Arrogant_. “-beautiful,” he finishes, decisively. “You could have anyone you want.”

“You’re not gay,” James bites out, even though he wants this more than he has ever wanted anything. The way Kendall is watching him, like he’s the most precious thing in the universe, is killing him slowly, and in the best way. “I know you’re not.”

“I’m not,” Kendall agrees. “I like girls.” He loops his fingers into James’s belt. “I like boys. I think there’s a word for that.”

“But you don’t like me,” James protests. “I would know.”

Kendall kisses him again, then. His lips are dry and hot, and they burn against James’s, but when he licks his own lips he can taste Kendall on them. And this is different than all the times before, the kisses carefully staged for the camera. This is Kendall, meaning it.

He smirks, asking, “Would you?” And then he’s on his tippy toes, pressing an open mouthed kiss to James’s neck, his jawline, his ear. “Do you know how hard it was, kissing you and thinking you didn’t want it? That you didn’t care?”

James nods, because yeah, he knows exactly how much that sucked.

“Do you know how hard you made me?” Kendall asks, and that is not a thing James knew, not at all, nuh uh. “You made me crazy, every time you touched me.”

The words go straight to his dick, and he wants to hide the way that his jeans have gone tight, but he can’t, because Kendall is pressed flush up against him. He doesn’t even seem to mind.

James gasps out, “Kendall, I-“

“Please tell me I’m reading this situation right?” He laughs, short and bitter against James’s shoulder, hiding his head there. “This is going to get awkward really quick if I’m wrong.”

“You’re right, of course you’re right, you’re completely, one hundred percent-“ And then Kendall’s mouth is on his again, and this time it’s hotter, wetter, and all he can taste and feel and touch is Kendall Knight. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to James.

James wraps his arms around Kendall’s hips, gathering him closer, and Kendall fucking moans like that’s even an okay thing to do. Then he walks the both of them back towards Kendall’s bed, never mind that that door is still hanging awkwardly on its hinges, barely standing shut. He pushes Kendall back – he lands with an _oof_ – and follows him down, landing on top of his body in a sprawl of limbs and laughter.

“Is this okay?” He asks, grin stretching wide across his face.

Kendall returns it wholeheartedly. “Yeah, dude, c’mon.” He tugs at the front of James’s shirt, at his belt and his pants, and wow, okay. They’re really doing this.

James feels it hot under his skin, how much he likes Kendall, how much he wants to show Kendall that he likes him. He presses tiny kisses across his face, his throat, to the exposed bits of his collarbone. He pulls at the wide neck of Kendall’s shirt and presses his lips against the jut of his shoulders, bites and nips until Kendall gasps back.

He’s fumbling with James’s jeans still, pulling one handedly at James’s belt while the other hand palms against James’s ass, grinding the two of them together. That’s working for James more than he wants to admit; he’s getting off on the way that it’s _Kendall_ under him, _Kendall_ moaning his name, more than anything else. He’s wanted this for too damn long.

Kendall finally gets James’s belt open, one hand shoved down his pants, palming his cock through the thin material of his underwear, and James practically yelps his name. He’s chanting it like it’s a prayer, saying, “Kendall, Kendall, Kendall,” and he wants to feel him. Why can’t he feel him?

So James works on Kendall’s jeans too, the fucking skinny, tight denim hard to unzip, especially once Kendall’s hand is touching skin. But then he’s got them open, and Kendall is practically sobbing into the juncture between James’s neck and shoulder, licking and biting and kissing while James’s long fingers wrap around his dick.

Their hands keep bumping, knuckles scraping against each other. James begs, “Let me,” looking askance at his best friend because he thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t. Kendall hesitates, but only for a second, his hand falling away from James’s dick.

But then James takes them both in his hand, the heat unbearable, and it only takes a few rough, uncoordinated strokes before he’s got a rhythm building back up. Kendall writhes against him, bucking his hips up like he can get more friction if he helps, the greedy fuck, and James speeds up because he can, the heads of their cocks rubbing together, so slick with pre-come that it’s ridiculous.

It doesn’t take long for Kendall to come, his hands fisting the comforter of his bed, white-knuckled and panting. James can feel him spilling over, can feel the wet, sticky dribble of it against his own cock, and that’s pretty much it for him. He gasps, “Kendall,” and loses it completely, and fuck.

This is ridiculous. He can’t believe he just brought them both off in his hand like it’s their first time. But it is, with each other. Which makes it the only time that counts, James thinks, contentedly.

He snuggles Kendall closer, one warm wrapped firmly around his waist. Tentatively, he asks, “Was that okay?”

Kendall bumps their noses together, a strange parody of the other night, when James thought everything was awful; that everything would always be awful. “Better than okay.”

“Did you mean everything? That you said? That you love me?” James is scared to even ask it. He’s scared that this is all going to end up being a dream that his twisted psyche came up with to taunt him. That tomorrow he’ll end up cold and alone, in his own bed, while Kendall will still be mad at him for no good reason.

Except Kendall smiles softly and says, “Yeah. I meant it.” He kisses James’s nose then, the move gentler and more intimate than anything else they’ve done. “I like you. I _love_ you.”

“But what about the press? What do we tell them about Dak?”

“Do you want to be with Dak?” Kendall asks, and this time he sounds dubious, like maybe James is going to take back the way he feels.

James shakes his head, a vehement no.

It brings a smile to Kendall’s lips. He says, “Then fuck the press. We tell them that we love each other. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Yeah, James decides happily. It really, really is.

 


End file.
